


Sun, leather, passion fruit

by ClaireScott



Series: Dirty Supernatural imagines [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bed & Breakfast, Doggy Style, F/M, Fluff, Mindfuck, passion fruits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireScott/pseuds/ClaireScott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean comes from a hunt and explores a new, surprising ability. He can read your mind. He can hear all the dirty things you think about him. And he really appreciates your fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun, leather, passion fruit

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language. I apologize for all mistakes. 
> 
> Based on a imagine (Imagine Dean being able to read minds for a while and him hearing all of your dirty thoughts about him) from dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.

It’s been four weeks now that the Winchesters checked into your little bed & breakfast. The smaller one, Dean, pays every Sunday for the last week and he’s most of the time in a flirty mood. The taller of the brothers, Sam, is a very friendly person, polite and obliging. You like them both but Dean is… puh… Dean’s really hot. For at least three weeks now you fantasizing about being loved by Dean. Okay, about being fucked by him. Hot, sweaty, fierce sex.  
You don’t know what they are exactly doing but they clearly sort their things out at night. Every morning they’re sitting yawning and totally exhausted at the breakfast table, just to go to bed after eating. It’s more a “Diner & Bed” than a “Bed & Breakfast” for them, you guess. But they’re always good-humored. Things going well for them, you think.  
It’s day 31 of waiting for Dean and Sam to show up after their nightshift, and you’re looking forward to watch Dean eating hungrily your pancakes, drinking orange or passion fruit juice, licking raspberry jam off his thumb. Oh. My. God. You think of all the dirty things you could do with a glass of raspberry jam and Dean Winchester.  
The door opens and Sam and Dean entering the little breakfast room like every morning. There’s a family with two kids at the table at the window, two traveling salesmen at the table on the right and a single woman in her 60s near the door. The last table, near the little counter, is set for the Winchesters. Dean looks like he’s having headache, you think.  
“Good Morning”, you say, coming to their table, smiling.  
“Morning, (Y/N)”, Sam mumbles, looking somehow battered.  
Dean just grunts, rubbing his forehead with his right hand: “Fuck, it’s so loud in here…”  
“Really?” You ask – everyone is chewing, the salesmen reading the newspaper, even the kids of the family are silent, their mouth full with pancakes and nutella.  
“Yes”, Dean hisses and you think that maybe he’s got a hangover.  
“I didn’t drink, I’m sober, fuck, fuck, fuck…”, Dean murmurs, massaging his temples.  
“Coffee, guys?” You ask and both are just nodding.  
Dean pours passion fruit juice in a glass and drink it chug-a-lug, just to stare at the floor after drinking. Your imagination comes up with a lot of pictures about sipping passion fruit juice out of Dean’s navel. You grab the coffeepot and hand it to Sam.  
Dean’s looking up, absolutely confused.  
“Did you say anything about my navel?” He asks his brother and Sam’s shaking his head.  
You’re freezing. Did you say that aloud? Oh, no. Oh, shit, shit, shit, fuck! But Sam doesn’t react. He looks like he would fall asleep while chewing his toast. He doesn’t even answer his brother not to mention betraying you. Fortunately they are both so tired, they didn’t notice that it was you, saying this dirty little things unintentionally aloud. You take a look around. Everyone’s still eating, nobody take notice from you or the Winchesters. Puh. That was a close thing.  
You’re watching Dean, caring, while he half-hearted put some syrup on his pancakes. You would love to massage him the stress out of his body, kissing his neck, rubbing your cheek against his stubbles. You could kiss down a trail from his shoulders, over his navel, licking up the last drops of passion fruit juice, down to his cock.  
“Sounds really good”, Dean murmurs and now it’s Sam looking up, frowning.  
“What?”  
Dean’s face enlightens. He looks like he’s got an inspiration or a really cool vision.  
You sigh. He’s so handsome, even when he’s got headache and a kind of a hangover. You wonder, going back to your dirty mind, what his skin would taste. Sun and leather, you guess. Passion fruit juice and pineapple. A bit of motor oil maybe. His lips would taste like pancakes and syrup, and you would bet they are as soft as these fucking pancakes. Soft and warm. You would bite fondly in his bottom lip, making him moan, making him so hot he’s not able to wait longer, turns you around and fucks you doggy-style. You sigh again.  
You’re feeling watched and look up. Dean’s looking at you, his mouth a bit open, surprise on his face.  
“Sam?”, He asks, but he doesn’t take his gaze off of you.  
“Mhm?”  
“Ready? I need to talk to you in private. And I need some sleep.”  
“Sleep well!” You say, smiling at both.  
“Thanks. See you later”, Dean says, giving you a seductive smile. 

 

In the afternoon you’re sitting on the bench beside your front door, drinking a cup of coffee. You’ve just finished cleaning all your guest rooms, except the room of the Winchesters. They are still sleeping, you guess. You can have a break until they leave.  
“Hey”, a voice says and you look up.  
Against the light you see Dean, holding a mug of coffee in one hand, in the other a bottle.  
“May I join you?”  
“Of course.” You answer, smiling.  
“I have some passion fruit juice here and my navel happens to be here, too. What do you think, ha?” He grins and takes a sip of his coffee.  
Your eyes widening and you feel you’re blushing.  
“I’m so sorry, Dean, I didn’t want to say that aloud. I was very impertinent and naughty. Sorry, really sorry.”  
He’s just grinning, this wonderful, appealing, charming grin. You are lost and you know it.  
“I’m not sure if I taste like sun and leather, passion fruit and… and what was next?”  
“Pineapple.” You whisper and grabbing for some hold at the bench.  
“Right. Pineapple and a bit of motor oil and I really don’t know if my lips are as soft as these fucking pancakes but I think you could try me and tell me if you were right…”  
“What?”  
Oh. My. God. Again. And again. You must be dreaming.  
“I can hear your thoughts, babe. You’re not dreaming. I really would love to do you doggy-style. Right now.”  
He comes closer and as his lips touching yours, soft as pancakes, you think you’re in heaven. Oh. My. God.  
“It’s Dean”, he whispers, “And you’re not in heaven.”  
About 20 minutes later you are in the Winchesters’ guest room – the room you planned to clean, not to get fucked in by the most handsome guy you’ve seen in the last two years.  
“Don’t have to clean the room, (Y/N). It’s perfect. You’ll take the day off.”  
“Okay…” You whisper, unbuttoning Dean’s shirt.  
He taste like sun and leather, but it’s not pineapple, it’s physalis and ice tea and… and pizza.  
“Pizza?” Dean murmurs, “I like the thought of tasting like sun, leather, motor oil and pizza. I should taste myself more often.”  
“Where’s Sam?” You ask, deciding not to wonder, just to enjoy.  
“Library. He tries to find out why I can hear your thoughts…”  
“Only my thoughts?”  
“No. Of everyone. It’s very loud and disturbing.”  
Dean unbuttons your jeans and kisses your body from your hips to your ankles, helps you to back out of your trousers and your pantie. You take your shirt of, unhook your bra and Dean throws it both away.  
“Let’s see how you taste, baby”, he whispers, pushing you gently to his bed where he lays you down and spreads your legs, licking through your folds.  
You moan and he kisses a trail upwards to your mouth.  
“It’s coconut and salt, vanilla and water melon.”  
“You like it?” You ask, a little bit shy – he’s stunning and you don’t know if you will be good enough for him.  
“I love it” He answers, earnestness in his voice. “I’ll love to eat you out. But first…”  
“First?” You ask, biting you lower lip.  
“First I fulfill your fantasies, (Y/N). Doggy-style, right? Do you still want this?”  
You’re just able to nod. Encouraged of Dean’s frankly behavior you start kissing and caressing him – and every time you wish he would touch you at a special point, he does. He reads your thoughts, you don’t have to say anything, he hears what you need, what you think and wish and he obliges. You’re a whimpering mess, can’t hardly breath after cumming, cumming and cumming, again and again. As you open your eyes you see Dean smiling at you.  
“Please, Dean, I want you inside me!” You pant and he gets up from the bed to fetch a condom.  
You close your eyes, waiting for him to come back.  
“Come on”, he whispers, “On your knees. Can you do this for me, babe?”  
“Yes. Just give me five seconds more…”  
You help yourself on hands and knees, feeling Deans rough, callused hands on your hips. You feel the tip on his cock on your entrance.  
“Yes, please, do it, please, please!” You think, craving for his cock to fill you.  
“We have time, honey” Dean whispers, “No need to hurry.”  
He teases you with his cock, rubbing his tip over your bundle of nerves, making you moan. You buck your hips against him and he still isn’t in you.  
“Please….” You whimper and he’s finally slipping in you, very careful and slow.  
“Dean, oh, god, yes!”  
He gives you the time you need to get used to his size, to adjust around him, before he starts thrusting in you. His fingers massaging your clit and you cum again, for the fifth time in the last half hour. He fucks you through your orgasm, thrusting a little slower in you to let you come down.  
“God, I wish this would never end…” You think, clenching your fingers in the sheets.  
“Sorry…”, Dean groans, “It will end. I’m so close…”  
You buck your hips back, against him.  
“Dean!” You moan, “Yes, please, fuck me hard, come on…”  
Dean obliges and cums with a deep, harsh groan, your both breathing heavily.  
“Thank you, thank you. This was really fucking good.” You think, collapsing on the bed, feeling Dean’s chest on your sweaty back seconds later.  
“You’re welcome”, Dean answers. “Tomorrow afternoon?”  
“Is this a date?”  
“Want one?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Then it’s a date. And I would really appreciate to hear some of your ideas for this date tomorrow at breakfast.”  
“Okay”, you murmur, “I’m thirsty. Where’s the juice?”  
“Over there. Wanna have a sip out of my navel?” Dean’s grinning, while he points to the table where the bottle is standing.  
“Of course” You laugh, trying to reach the bottle without getting up.  
“You want me to get up, baby?”  
“Yeah. Having someone to hear my thoughts is better than I have expected…”  
“Enjoy it. It won’t last long.” Dean answers and get up to bring the bottle.  
“What a pitty…” You think and Dean shakes his head.  
“I’m really glad when I have absolute silence again. I can even hear Sammy’s dreams. It was a really weird one…”  
“Tell me…”, you murmur, carefully filling Dean’s navel with passion fruit juice.  
“No, that’s nothing you should know.”  
“When will you leave the town?” You ask.  
“I don’t know. Next week, I guess.”  
You wish he could stay longer. Forever, maybe.  
“I can’t. I’m sorry”, he answers your thoughts und you give him a smile before sipping out his navel.


End file.
